someone did.'
'There were hawks,' Starblade whispered. 'Two shining hawks with wings of fire. They dove from the sun, and sheltered us beneath their wings. That is what protected us.'
'That was Tre'valen,' said a new voice, flatly. Firesong stood just inside, keeping his face in shadow.
'That was Tre'valen, in spirit-form. And likely that one of k'sheyna who was taken by the Shin'a'in Goddess.' He seemed to be waiting for the name, and Darkwind supplied it, carefully controlling his own anger at the Adept's failure to shield his father.
'Dawnfire,' he said, his own voice as expressionless as Firesong's.
Firesong did not even acknowledge that he had spoken. 'Dawnfire.
It was also Dawnfire. That was shamanic magic; it would have been the only thing this Falconsbane could not counter, for it is spirit-born, and he knows not how to use it, nor how to negate it.' Firesong bent down for a moment, and laid his hand gently on Starblade's head, above his closed eyes. Starblade did not seem to even notice that he was there, so deep was his exhaustion. 'He must have known he could not survive such a blow in spirit- form.' Darkwind kept a tight curb on his tongue, afraid to say anything, lest he lash out with words of challenge. But Firesong straightened, and looked into his eyes.
And the sheer agony Darkwind saw there killed whatever accusations had been forming in his mind. Firesong's ageless, smooth face, which bore only confidence scant hours ago, now showed creases of tension and grief.
'I could not shield your father and the Stone, both, Darkwind,' Firesong said quietly, with unshed tears making his voice thick.
'Tre'valen died because I was a fool. I did not think to look for your enemy; I did not ward the Stone against him. I had to make a choice; your father, or the Vale.' Look,' he said, and picked up a stoneware cup spiderwebbed with cracks from the cold. 'Look here, how this is like the Stone. All the damage runs from this place, tied to Starblade. And a single blow here-channeled through Starblade-you see?' He dropped the cup, which shattered between his feet.
Indeed, Darkwind did see. That one blow, had Firesong not intervened, would have shattered the Heartstone completely; releasing all the pent-up energies at once.
It would not have created as large a crater as made the Dhorisha Plains, but it would have dug down to bedrock, and killed every living thing within the Vale, and far outside it.
'I am-sorry,' Firesong said, and sighed heavily. 'You will never know how sorry. I did what I had to. As did Tre'valen.' And with that, he retreated, with the rest of k'sheyna parting before him.
It was a fair amount of time later when Darkwind left the ekele, having put Starblade and Kethra under the care of Iceshadow and the other mages. Iceshadow was confident that they would both be near recovery by morning; Elspeth had volunteered to stay with them, channeling energies through Gwena to renew what they had lost, helping the k'sheyna Healers. Vree had wanted to stay with Elspeth.
Darkwind could think of no way to be of use. His own strength was not what it should have been; he had cast much of it into that fruitless counterattack on Falconsbane. And his mind was in a turmoil. He did not know what to do, or to think. He would have been of no use to the Healers, muddled as he was.
So he wandered the Vale instead, coming at last to the curtain of energies that hid the entrance. Snow was falling again. The last daylight dwindled beneath the trees. He reached the cleft in the hillside, and realized that the odd outcropping of snow there was not snow at all.
Firesong turned slowly, saw him, and nodded. It felt like an invitation.
Darkwind stepped across the Veil and into the snow to stand beside him.
After a moment, Firesong spoke.
'He goes home now-' the Adept said dully. '-his body does.' Darkwind saw that one of the shadows at the limit of vision was moving; was not a shadow at all, but a black-clad rider on a ghost-gray horse, with a large bundle carried across the saddlebow. Moving away; toward that path that led down to the Plains.
'And what of the spirit?' Darkwind asked, finally.
'I am not a shaman. I cannot say.' Darkwind rubbed his arms as the residual heat of the Vale wisped away from his body into the silent snowfall.
'I want you to know, you did the right thing. In protecting the Heartstone.
It would have killed us all.' Firesong stiffened, and looked up; white crystal flakes settled on his forehead and brows, laced his eyelashes and crown of white hair.
'Knowing it was the better of two ills changes little.' His hair rippled like silk in a breeze. 'It makes Tre'valen's death hurt no less.' Darkwind nodded.
Firesong shifted his loose robes and lifted a long bone pipe to his lips.
Thin, breathy notes fell softly upon the ear, mingled with the silence.
Darkwind knew the tune, a Shin'a'in lament.
A second voice joined the flute's, though Darkwind could not have told what it was until he saw the white firebird perched in the tree branches above the Adept, its head and neck stretched out, its graceful bill open and its throat vibrating.
The scene etched itself into Darkwind's memory. After so many years in the company of Adepts, he knew the outward signs of self-induced trance; after a while, he realized that the Adept was paying no attention to anything but his music.
Darkwind turned and walked back into the Vale, leaving Firesong and his bondbird pouring out mournful notes into the dark and silence.
As he walked away, he thought he caught sight of something wet glittering on Firesong's cheek, though the notes never faltered, and the face remained utterly remote and as lifeless as a marble statue's. Perhaps it was only
